


The Alpha Battle

by Stormlyht



Series: This Town That Loves Me [38]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gore, I'm not kidding, M/M, Violence, this is brutal guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-20
Updated: 2016-10-20
Packaged: 2018-08-23 15:49:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8333383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stormlyht/pseuds/Stormlyht
Summary: The time has come.  The stage is set.  Time for the violence.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Here we are folks. I know you don't want to read me rambling so I'm just going to say that after this there are still several chapters till the end, because I like to wrap shit up. I'm also pretty sure I promised sex at one point too. I spent actual time editing this, because this is just such an important scene and I wanted to do it justice. I hope you all approve.

The moon began to rise, light shining down on them illuminating the area, and all Stiles could think was that this was it. His whole life would change from this moment on. It felt like there should be something more momentous to the occasion. Not just an older man talking to the sky and a blind man standing across from him. Taking in a breath, he reached out and touched Derek. That was what felt big. No matter what happened here, Derek was standing next to him, and that was good. Derek should be here. Stiles thought that maybe Derek should be there at every big event in his life. He let go of Derek, ready.

“Begin!” Chris’ voice cried out and Stiles swung his bat around at Deucalion. Which might have worked if he was still there. Both Derek and Deucalion were at each other already, blood flying in all directions.

That was incredibly unfair. He wanted to participate as well, he wasn’t just the comic relief. Well, in general, he played the role of comic relief, it was easy for him. Sarcasm was so important to this world. Stiles took a few steps away, holding his bat carefully as he watched claws rend flesh and bone flash before healing set in. He was going to help. He wasn’t going to just be a victim.

The two of them broke for a moment, Derek flinging Deucalion off of him. Stiles rushed forward, his bat swinging through the air but Deucalion grabbed Derek, turning so Stiles hit Derek solidly on the back of the head.

“What? NO!” Stiles cried out as Derek fell to the ground. “You dick!”

Deucalion’s laugher ringing in his ears, Stiles crouched down by Derek, but he barely got there before Deucalion was clawing across Derek’s chest, ripping him open and spraying blood all over the arena.

*

The hit wasn’t really that bad, and Derek would have said something except pain started blossoming across his chest. He opened his eyes to see Deucalion clawing at him like there was no tomorrow. Derek reached up and grabbed Deucalion, twisting as he launched himself up, slamming Deucalion on the ground. The laughter stopped, red eyes holding Derek’s gaze. Derek slashed his claws across Deucalion’s cheek.

Neither one of them were backing down. Each time Derek pushed, Deucalion pushed back twice as hard, and it wasn’t long before he could feel the extreme punishment his body was taking. Deucalion was stronger though, and Derek knew that he wasn’t going to win this. Every bit inside him protested giving Stiles up to this madman, and his mind frantically tried to come up with some way to incapacitate him.

Which was when he was slammed hard against the barrier and white hot pain flashed across his spine. Something cracked and he fell to the ground, shocked and unable to move. He watched Deucalion walk towards him, a smile on his lips as his tongue licked blood off his face. He also saw Stiles coming up behind Deucalion. Derek didn’t hear the spikes as they came out of the bat, but he watched them, his entire being focused on the movements.

Deucalion reached down and grabbed Derek by the scruff of his shirt. Derek couldn’t move, couldn’t fight until his spine healed. “You taste delicious. Would you like to yield Derek Hale?” Deucalion asked and Derek laughed.

“Fuck you,” he whispered, eyes flashing as Stiles brought the bat down on the back of Deucalion’s neck.

Derek fell to the ground as Deucalion dropped him, howling in pain. Stiles swung the bat again, but this time the spikes glanced across Deucalion’s arm. Deucalion turned and swung at Stiles, claws swiping across Stiles’ side, digging into the cast on his arm and shattering it.

“Stiles!” Derek screamed as Stiles fell to the ground. He could see everything in slow motion. There were tears streaming down Stiles’ cheeks but he was completely focused on Derek. Derek’s name fell from his lips and everything paused.

With a strange sort of crystal clarity he could hear Isaac, Erica and Vernon crying out his name, and Stiles’. It wasn’t noise he heard with his ears though, it was deeper, internal. His bond with them was strong, flowing through his veins with white hot fury, and that little bit of wild that was his Uncle Peter came through hard. Pack.

In the dream like silence of the moment he could feel everything. The earth under him. The trees as they swayed to a breeze he shouldn’t be able to feel. His ancestors lived here, ran through these woods, raised a pack, a legacy. The magic was in the wood, soaked into the ground over hundreds of years and now it was calling out to him. This was his space, his home. Territory.

The sound of Stiles hitting the ground ripped through him, opened up parts of himself he didn’t know existed. Was this how it ended? Hadn’t he already lost everything once, did he have to do it again? At what point did he stop losing, and begin gaining? What would it take for him to stand up, to stand up and stop being beaten down? The roar was pulled from the deepest parts of his wolf and it shifted his body as it left him. Everything hurt, but it was flashes of pain, there and gone like scratches instead of bone crushing agony. The sky was right there, just above him, closer than it had ever been before, and he could feel the thrumming of every bond he had calling out to him. The earth was triumphant, his pack was awed, and the Alpha form was his. Loss.

No one was taking Stiles away from him.

*

The beast that Derek had become was magnificent. It was huge, tall and broad shouldered, full of thick black fur. Stiles watched Derek shift with a strange combination of pride and lust, the blood red eyes flashing wild in the moonlight. “Rock on,” he whispered with a smile. Derek had figured out how to do the Alpha Shift. That was so cool. When Stiles was done being in agonizing pain he was so going to spend hours touching and learning this shape. For science, of course.

Only Deucalion also knew how to Alpha Shift, and it didn’t take him long to realize that he needed to do it to stay in this fight. It took just a moment for him to rise up, a beast of his own, and the only thing Stiles could really see was that there was a black shape and a dark brown shape and a lot of blood. Stiles couldn’t tell who was winning, and wasn’t that a bitch?

His arm was burning, as was his side. Since the two of them were involved with each other, he took the chance to look down and all he saw was blood. Blood across his arm, his side, blood everywhere. His cast was ruined, and for some reason that seemed incredibly unfair. After everything that had happened, it was his injured arm that pissed him off the most.

“Choose your destiny,” a thin voice cried from one side of the ring and Stiles blinked back tears to look at Scott. He had the iPod up and on. It took a second for the music to hit him, but Stiles’ lips curved away from his teeth as he felt it reverberate through him in a way it never had before.

He felt the rage like a beast inside himself and it made it possible for him to stand up. Deucalion didn’t think of him as a threat. No one really did. He was just a little human running with wolves. Carefully he reached down for his bat. Stiles might not have claws, he might not have increased healing, he might not even have strength and speed. He had a quick brain, enough sarcasm to level the whole town, and now he had a fucking bat. Twisting the handle to let the spikes out, he focused on his enemy.

“Fight!” the music said. Okay, Stiles would do just that.

“You son of a bitch!” he screamed out, and for some reason both Deucalion and Derek focused on him. “You think you can just do whatever the fuck you want to?” Gripping the bat hard, Stiles rushed forward, and Derek grabbed Deucalion’s arm, twisting him around so when Stiles brought the bat down it raked across Deucalion’s chest.

Deucalion roared and pushed Stiles away sending him flying to the ground. He turned on Derek, lunging forward to tear out his throat, but Derek had his arm up quickly enough that Deucalion’s teeth dug into that instead and he spit out a mouthful of muscle and fur. Stiles screamed out again, scrambling to his feet as he pressed the button for the wolfsbane. He rushed forward and swung, bringing the bat down on the back of Deucalion’s head, hearing the heavy, and wet, thwack sound.

“Brutality.”

“I’m not a pet!” Stiles screamed, his voice as loud as any of the wolf’s howls. He raised the bat and brought it down again.

“Animality.”

“I’m no one’s toy! I’m not a *thing*!” He could hardly feel his arm as it continued to smash though Deucalion’s head. Darkness was setting in, possibly from clouds over the moon, possibly from the rain of tears flowing out of his eyes. “I’m Stiles fucking Stilinski you piece of shit! I’m the sheriff’s son, I’m an asshole, and I belong to no one but myself!”

“Fatality.”

His face was burning, blood rushing across his skin as Deucalion’s skull was cracked open. Later he would vomit over the images of brain matter and bone he was staring at. For the moment though, all he could think about was how much he was fucking done with this. All of this.

“Stiles,” a soft voice said from next to him, but Stiles just kept swinging. “Hey, Stiles, that’s enough.” A hand came into view and grabbed the bat before Stiles could bring it down again.

“I’m not someone’s toy,” Stiles breathed again. Everything hurt, he was heaving in breaths heavy with the smell of blood and it was sickeningly cloying. For a moment he thought he was going to be sick. As he stared down at the mess of matted hair, skull and brain, he couldn’t quite come to terms with the fact that he had done that. That had been some other Stiles Stilinski, not quite related to him. He turned his face away and Derek was there, wrapping his arms around Stiles.

“No,” Derek’s voice said softly. He turned Stiles’ face to press into his chest. His incredibly naked, warm, firm chest. When Stiles’ brain was working properly again he was going to really like how nice it felt. “You aren’t. You’re your own person Stiles. You always will be.”

Stiles began to shake with the exhaustion and the bat fell from his fingers. Tears fell more freely down his cheeks and he rubbed his face against Derek. “Is it over?” he whispered. The sound was soft, fragile, and later Stiles would be embarrassed by it.

“Yeah Stiles. It’s over. You’re safe.”

“Okay,” Stiles said with a nod, and then he lost all control and passed out.


End file.
